


Stockholm Syndrome

by Bodyandsoulagenda



Series: Frankenstein Poetry [1]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers Family, BAMF Peter Parker, Child Soldiers, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Gen, Harley is Peter's little brother, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra Peter Parker, Little Brothers, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, No Incest, Other, Peter Parker Has Anxiety, Peter Parker Has Issues, Peter Parker Has Nightmares, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Meets the Avengers, Peter Parker has PTSD, Peter is a Little Shit, Protective Avengers, Protective Bruce Banner, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Pepper Potts, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2020-03-07 06:18:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18867451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bodyandsoulagenda/pseuds/Bodyandsoulagenda
Summary: When The Avengers raid Hydra bases, it's rare they find child agents.It's the rest that matters most. Child soldiers are less experienced, and they are always seven or under, and S.H.I.E.L.D takes care of them just fine, but they're not dangerous just mentally unstable, with mental health issues that are tended to once it's made clear they are free, no longer in Hydra's will.So a fifteen-year-old boy who had been nicknamed Spider-Man by Hydra is more unstable than most children and extremely protective of the common agent. A six-year-old boy that's undergone a lot of physical abuse.Spider-Man is unexpected, but it's nothing they can't handle. He turns in, isn't hostile, doesn't resist, but... he's somewhere else.Somewhere between loyal to Hydra but also against them.Wracked with guilt, but placid.Paranoid, but unafraid.Seemingly a pacifist, but holding violent darkness inside him.No name.





	Stockholm Syndrome

**Author's Note:**

> Yes. Yes, I am writing three chapters at the same time. 
> 
> This is also a Harley Keener/ Peter Parker Brother/Brother relationship type of story. As in, Peter is an older brother, and Harley is the younger brother.

The orchard behind the garden of the manor was large. There, the grass stayed tall, and the trees stayed filled with pomegranates in September. His siblings favorite part was where they grew grapes as they were the farthest from home. All way in the back of the entire field, where the farmers worked, and their children played. 

Jessica, Kaine, Teresa, and Ben went there all the time, but Peter was never allowed to play with the other kids. 

He was the second oldest, followed by Ben and Jessica, but because Kaine and Ben were both born with ADHD and Jessica and Teresa could only train in ballet, and the literature and arts, he was the only to solely study in every core academic subject and train physically and psychologically. 

Besides breakfast, lunch, and dinner, each lasting only ten minutes, Peter only saw his brothers one hour every day, during physical and combat training, while he only saw his two sisters an hour every other day when they were studying English arts, languages, and the instruments, each subject rotating. 

So the boys trained an hour every day and played the rest of the time, while the girls learned their own skills for one hour every day. There was almost no time for Peter to rest.  

His mother hated him the most, so she made him train in combat for eight hours a day, before switching to everything else for nine hours a day. 

When Peter had free time, which was only thirty minutes on Sundays, he'd go to the beach, and take the boat a little into the distance before letting it drift for ten minutes as he lay back. 

One day, when he was seven years old, he transferred some of the money from his father's "trust fund," into a credit card, stuffed a bag with a separate pair of clothes, then left Germany on that boat, with only the clothes on his back, the money on that card, and another change of clothes. 

The sea took him to the Netherlands, then smuggled on trains, he went to France, Italy, Poland, Norway, Finland, Sweden, then smuggled on a shipping boat, to the United Kingdom. By then he was only over seven years old. Six months till eight. Six months of traveling. 

In those six months, he read, he ate, he wrote to his siblings who wrote back to mention their envy of his travels, and he saw everything, but only lived in the moment, never buying books, just reading at the library, only eating at restaurants, but never bringing food with him unless he traveled on a train, and he never solidified anything with photography as most tourists did, just breathed every beautiful scene in. 

He had to admit, he missed the training, he felt as if he was becoming shabby in a skill he'd suffered too long to perfect. 

Only six months before he turned eight did he settle down in Russia and joined their Special Operations Forces Command as a child soldier. 

For two years and half a dozen months, he traveled with the armed forces with other children of different ages and grown male soldiers, going on many rescue ops, conducting sabotage missions, reconnaissance, and subversive missions. 

But when he was ten, he decided to start traveling again, so he left the forces peacefully with the authorization and blessing of his general and set off to Romania where, for a few months, he helped smuggle refugees from the middle east across borders into other countries. 

When he was Eleven, it was the first time he ever went to America.  

It was free land, but horrible all the same, though beauty marked many places there, the ugliness out ruled. 

Also, it was stolen land, so he couldn't understand how anything was really legal on it. 

It was there, that he met his aunt May, and it was with his aunt that he was informed of a situation that had him rushing back from America across the sea, back to Germany.  

His mother had conceived again. She gave birth to a boy, but with a cost. She'd been tracked by an organization called S.H.I.E.L.D she'd been running from for a long time because the father had been an agent under a false name. 

Kaine, Ben, Teresa, and Jessica had scattered, leaving the country with little knowledge of the real world with only half a million dollars in their own credit cards, bags, phones, and the clothes on their own back. 

His mother had run as well. 

Without her son. 

When he entered the manor, it was in a horrible state. They'd scrambled to find her, broke everything, burned everything, but in the midst of it all, a child had been abandoned at the very back of the fields, where the grapes grew, and where the workers lay dead alongside their children. Suicide. Loyal to their master until the very end. 

Wrapped in a blanket, in a onesie, Harley only whimpered. 

Madame Hydra's youngest child.

* * *

Steve had been on a rant for the longest time because stupid Sam Wilson decided to convince him he didn't pay taxes, which, okay, do that on your time, but _we_ don't have time for this. 

Actually, they kind of had all the time in the world, but Natasha's hand was itching for the TV control, because Sherlock was on, and she was getting into the plot of the story. She locked eyes with Clint across the room who seemed to have the same idea but this was the most Steve talked to them and they didn't want to ruin that, so they stayed silent, in favor of being polite. 

This was nice, Natasha thought; as Tony butted in to make a comment about voting and how he wasn't going to do it, which caused Steve to go off-topic, putting a hold to his previous rant, which they had learned, he wouldn't forget about, to start a new one about the importance of voting; yes this was nice. 

Thor looked very confused, but he also had a smile on his face, humoring Steve by cutting in and asking questions about the topic. 

Bruce was reading, his shoulder acting as her headrest, but he peeked from his book to watch Steve. 

Wanda's head was resting on Steve's lap, and he was running his hands through her hair, while Pietro sucked in everything Steve was saying to them like a sponge, trying his best to adapt to America and how it worked. He was passionate about America, but once he read the book Tony had given him, _A People's History of the United States,_ he wouldn't be so happy.

Columbus would ruin his day as he had disgusted hers. 

Natasha pulled the blankets closer around her before she looked up "Friday, order four meat lovers pizzas and four cheese pizzas. All large" Natasha whispered up at the ceiling, snuggling a little bit more into Bruce's side. 

There was a soft, barely noticeable _ding!_ which was a confirmation the order had been sent out, then Natasha settled back more comfortably against her lover, her hand intertwining with his. 

"Yes, but, it's a free country Steve, if I don't want to, I won't have to vote," Tony pointed out, throwing his hands up. 

Wanda snorted, and Steve started his rant all over again, then it faded into the rest of his previous rant. 

Natasha met Clint's eyes again, and he pretended to take a knife from his pocket and stab himself with it over and over and over again, as he fell back onto Laura's lap. Lila and Cooper were giggling like little girls who'd just been flirted with, as they interrogated Vision. 

This was oddly domestic of them, and when the pizza came, the regular intern walking into the room to place them on the kitchen table, Steve trailed off. 

"Cheese?" he looked around, "from-" 

"Pizza hut," Tony said, grinning as he stood from his seat clapping his hands on Steve's shoulder, playfully shaking his shoulders, "you're favorite, so shut up and eat!" 

Wanda laughed, then made a little _oof_ when Steve moved from under her, her head flopping back onto the couch. Pietro laughed at her before she kicked his chin, which caused him to gurgle a little. 

Clint smiled at their antics, getting up and heading over to the table, his wife and two kids following, as well as Vision, and Bruce stood up to, pulling her along with him. Sam stayed put because he knew Steve would be bringing him a plate with pizza, which he did. 

Clint, Steve, and Tony went back to sit in the living room area, while Laura, the kids, Thor, Vision, the twins, Bruce and Natasha sat at the kitchen table to eat. Thor asked Lila about her friendship bracelet, and Wanda leaned into their conversation as Lila started telling Thor how she made it. 

Pietro, Cooper, and Vision talked to each other, while Bruce, conversed with Laura and Natasha had to think it again, but reframe her thoughts, she loved this. 

This domesticity, this togetherness, was rare, but Natasha loved it. She was raised to believe love was for children but love was around her and she didn't mind being a child. She loved. 

They ate pizza, ordering takeout for seconds because of Thor, Pietro and Steve's metabolism, there were fewer pizza slices for the people there with normal metabolisms. 

Plates with Thai and Chinese food covered the coffee table and the kitchen table. The kids and Laura went back to their rooms to bed when the clock struck ten while the rest stayed in the living room, finally getting to watch Sherlock. 

Natasha remembered that day. It was good. It was nice. Calm. They were intact and familiar. 

 _Then Fury called_. 

Natasha sensed dread when Fury called, every time and even though Natasha loved Fury, she hated it when he called them for missions, hated the bastards that created these problems, hated Hydra. 

A base had been located in Japan. An undercover agent had returned with a report. 

Steve was the first to stand followed suite by Sam, and Natasha was quick as well because they were kind of all thinking the same thing: **Bucky**. 

"How many of us do you need?" Tony asked, standing up from where he sat beside Thor, cleaning his hands with a napkin and wiping his face. He sniffled, "I might be a little busiiiii!" 

Fury glared, "all of you. It's a larger base than usual. Strucker is there. We're estimating enhanced within his wake," he grumbled, "so all of you. I don't give a damn if you're busy," 

"Who will fill us in completely on the assignment," Steve asked, "do you think-" 

"I don't know if your boyfriend-" at Natasha's look Fury rolled his eyes, "ex-boyfriend, who doesn't know he's you're boyfriend, yadda, yadda, I wouldn't know. Agent Carter will fill you in," 

Steve nodded, turning the button off, his head hanging a little, "right," he said. 

Sam clapped his hand on Steve's back, mumbling something. 

Natasha sighed.

Good things only last so long. 

...

The mission was simple, with only minor complications at first. 

Tony couldn't get through the force field surrounding the base, because the source was hidden somewhere inside of the base. Agents were shooting up at him every time he got even a little closer. 

Pietro was quick to take them out, but some were trained, so they gave him a hard time. 

Natasha had a hard time definitely. Bucky wasn't there, which was a relief, but two other trained agents were, and together, they made a good Winter Soldier, but she was trained to be very capable.

"Natasha," it was Steve. 

She pressed her finger to the button on the earpiece, "all clear," she replied, then kneeled down to flip the men over, tying their arms together so it would be easier for the S.H.I.E.L.D agents that came with them to take them onboard the jets. 

"Force field down, enter now Romanoff," Steve said over the coms. Natasha nodded to herself before she set off into the building, a flashlight in one hand, and a gun in the other, crossed over so she wouldn't be surprised. 

Clint came behind her, and together, they made their way through the base, securing everything, before finally, Clint gave the S.H.I.E.L.D agents an all-clear so they filed into the base, with their equipment, to look around and examine it. Bruce was leading them and was the first to approach an object on the shelf. 

"Has anyone got their eyes on Strucker?" Clint asked in the coms, "Is Strucker here?" 

"Negative," Sam said, "the surrounding area is all clear now, Wanda and Thor are checking out the vehicle that was trying to get away, but there's no sight of Strucker so far. 

"Negative here too," Steve replied, "I'm on the second floor with a couple of agents but none had gotten eyes on Strucker yet," 

"Stark?" Natasha called. 

No reply. 

"Stark, you there. Have you any sight of Strucker?" Clint asked, "Stark-" he started but then Tony came on. 

"Negative here too," he paused, "but there are minors,"

Natasha brought up her hand, and everyone in the room stopped moving, the silence a signal. 

"Are they hostile?" Natasha asked him, looking at Clint. 

"One is... a teenager, but no, he isn't hostile, and the other is younger than the former, who can't be older than fifteen, the later, five maybe six. Get down here, he isn't hostile but the way he's looking at me-" Tony clicked his tongue, "yup. Possibly hostile." 

"On it," Natasha replied. She pulled her hand away to look at Bruce and his group," the rest of you get to work." she pressed the com button, "Any other unknown heat sources?" 

"Negative," Tony said. 

"Give me your location," Natasha demanded. 

"Basement." Tony replied," It's a small room, with a cell, you'll know it when you see it," 

She left the third floor of the base and followed the hallways to the basement floor. 

It was a large beautiful estate. It was a traditional Japanese mansion, with the center being the main base, but the smaller homes surrounding it were labs and roofs over the heads of Hydra agents. There were hills around the base and a large field filled with different colored flowers. It was too nice of a place for Hydra to infiltrate. 

The rooms were different in sizes, the hallways coming to dead ends, so it was harder to find the basement than she's estimated it would be. 

When she got to the basement, she found Tony out of his suit, a little boy, who yes, looked to be around five or six years old, at arm's length, while an older boy glared hotly at him. He was dressed from neck to toes in a black spandex or leather suit, with silver spiderweb patterns making a path on the entire suit. The Hydra symbol at the center of his chest. 

A Hydra agent. 

The younger boy moved away from Tony, running back to the older boy, who didn't move or even acknowledge her presence besides hunching in on himself so the younger boy could fit on the mat he was sitting on. 

"What's your name," Natasha snapped, ascending on the older boy. 

He didn't even flinch. 

He sighed, and leaned back, pulling out a gun. 

Natasha pulled her own out immediately, as Tony got back into the suit, getting into battle position but the older boy just rested it on his lap, before pushing it on the ground and kicking it towards them. 

Natasha picked it up and pocketed it before she looked at the younger boy. 

"I'm not armed, " he said. 

His voice was smooth, childlike, and he tucked a little closer to the other boy, who moved to wrap his arm around him. 

"What's your name," she asked him, a little softer now. 

He looked up at the older boy who just shook his head. The younger boy shook his head too, shrugging.

"Is he your handler," Natasha asked the younger boy. 

The younger boy looked up at the older boy, who just shook his head again. 

The boy shrugged again, "he's my brother," he replied. "We share the same mother," 

"Do you know his name?" Tony asked. 

He looked down. "Pietro," 

Steve walked through the door behind her, and when he caught sight of the kids his face reflected Natasha's inner emotions. 

Steve felt more than they did at the sight of children in these positions.

Hurt.

And anger. 

"Call Fury," Clint said, coming behind Steve, and approaching the other two kids, "Call Fury," he repeated, in demand. His face was etched with concern, and Natasha understood. He saw his own kids right now. The younger boy's eyes were blue, wide, and afraid. The older's shallow, sunken, and placid. 

The older one didn't resist when they started to cuff him, but the younger kicked at Clint when he approached him. 

He was scared, and Natasha couldn't blame him. He'd probably been alone here only with Pietro for a long time. They were both American, or at least they looked it, so it was possible, they'd been held hostage here. 

Brothers. 

You couldn't really tell, but the way Pietro turned to look at him when Clint advanced, he cared for the younger boy. They shared the same nose. They were brothers. 

Pietro was more experienced at concealing his emotions. 

The younger slackened when Steve finally got a hold of him, his fear evident.

It would be a long flight home. 

...

His older brother didn't speak to the 'heroes' even when they tried to bribe him with food. In the end, they gave it to him anyway, but Harley had learned his brother could go weeks without eating before he showed any signs of hunger. 

Because of this, he refused their offerings. 

So they stuck a tube into his forearm and fed him that way. 

Harley munched on his sandwich as he read a comic book one of the heroes, Tony something, brought for him, besides Peter, who sat on a bed he'd been handcuffed to since he was bought there. 

"They know you can probably break out of that in a millisecond right?" Harley asked, closing the comic, "I mean, they do. They've checked you over?" 

Peter shot one glance at him, his face etched with certainty before he nodded. 

He motioned to the handcuff, "Then why...?"  

Peter shrugged, "zey are approaching ze zituation az a perzon does when zey have a dog zat keeps going mizzing in zeir back yard, uzually ze owner tiez ze string wiz a bell around ze dog's neck, zey're placing handcuffs on me, so zey'll have ze warning once I start ze planned hostile attack/ ezcape plan, I'll break out of zeir iron holders." 

Harley leaned forward, touching the cuffs, "so, you have a plan?" 

Peter scoffed, "of courze I don't," he replied with an attitude meant towards the cameras at the edge of the room. 

Of course, I do, went unsaid. 

Harley took out the key he's pickpocketed and got Peter out of the cuffs. 

Two agents came bounding in moments later, and Harley threw the key at the chest of the taller one, panicked, who caught it with a look of indignation while Peter immediately schooled his expression with discretion. 

They didn't handcuff him again, though they tried, advancing towards Peter, but he hid his hands behind his back and laid down on them, sneering at them. The machine that had the liquid food that fed him came crashing down, as the tubes slipped out of his wrists. Harley hissed but Peter didn't even show an ounce of pain, even as the blood dripped down. 

"Agenti di scudo. Sei arrivato con un altro dei tuoi dispositivi stravaganti." Peter laughed, "Oserei dire, sono straordinari rispetto a quelli usati su di me prima!"

The taller agent made a sound that sounded like an animalistic growl, as he turned to grip Harley's shoulder "How did you-"

"Och, dlaczego musimy obwiniać własne błędy o sześcioletnie dzieci. "Peter shouted, as the shorter agent pulled the taller one away, shaking his head in disagreement. 

"You're trying to confuse us," the tall one blamed, "what do you have to hide?" he was hysterical. What had they done that was so horrible? He would have had the same reaction had he been taken and held hostage somewhere. 

"Itz a defenze attack," Peter whispered in English before he socked the guy in the face.

Harley got up and started towards the door, as Peter stood up from his place on the bed. 

"You can't grab him like that. He's startled," the shorter one explained hotly, "why are you so dense!" 

"He did that on purpose!" The taller one said, jumping up again, this time pulling out a gun. 

"Get out!" 

Clint Barton.

Harley hunched in on himself, as he walked backward away from the door, while Peter just went back to his place on the bed. 

This wasn't his plan, Harley realized, this had never been his plan. Peter's plans never failed. 

"Did ze come for ze blowjob?" Peter said, reaching out, motioning for Harley to move back. 

"You're French?" the man spoke as if he'd just achieved something, following Peter's motions, as he placed his hand on Harley's shoulder pushing him back onto the chair beside Peter's bed. 

Peter's mouth shut once again. 

Clint gave him an unamused look, before walking towards Peter, who reacted pliant, as Clint manhandled him into a sitting position at the end of the bed, his hands staying on his shoulder. He was frustrated, Harley could tell by the way his eyes rolled at his brother and hardened. 

"Alright, we're tired of you're shit." he snapped, pulling away, "tell us who you are," 

"Pietro Rom-Enova, at your service," Peter replied, dropping his act, "monsieur," he added, "but no, I'm not... well I wasn't raised in France, though I did have french semen in my mouth once. You?" 

Clint's eyes narrowed

"You've attacked a S.H.I.E.L.D," he snapped, "we gave you a warning-" 

"And I told you I'd attack if I ever felt threatened." Peter snapped back," when you spend time in a Hydra base, you learn to be safer better than sorry,"

"We only need to interrogate your brother at the moment, you'll come later," Clint told Harley, then he hauled Peter up by his arm. They both stood and left, but not before Peter threw Harley a look over his shoulder. 

Signal. 

Harley walked over to the door once it was closed, took out a small scalpel, then opened the key card frame, and cut two of the wires. The door became permanently locked. Harley looked up at the ceiling when he heard many alarms go off at the same time. The ground shook at the movement of feet coming back towards the door.  

Under the pillow, Peter had left a plan on a piece of paper, in mandarin Chinese, the only language that wasn't french, or german, that Harley had been taught. With just a little bit of spit, he would be able to ruin the complex writing. 

How had Peter snuck in a fountain pen though? 

Who cares. Harley followed the plan, taking out his phone, and hacking the mainframe the way Peter had taught him to. The walls were up and they were tall and strong, but Peter had taught him how to get through walls like that only a year previously. 

His memory was a little fuzzy, but the code that Karen had created to get through was in his muscle memory, so he got through, put in the flash drive so he could download all the files before he took it out hastily, tucked the flash drive in the little pocket of his boxers, before taking out the memory chip out of his phone, and tearing that apart then finally the agents came in. 

He took the paper, put it in his mouth and started chewing. 

It was hilarious how quickly they acted to turn him upside down and try to make him spit the damn paper out. 

He heard Peter laughing from the floor below him. 

Great. 

* * *

"What did he do?"

Clint shrugged, tossing back the drink Tony had handed him. 

"He tried to hack into some files but failed." he said, "anyway, whatever he was trying to do was messy," 

Tony pulled the seat from across from his out then sat down, arching a brow at him, as he took a sip of his own drink, "okay," he nodded, then he shook his head just as quickly, "I don't know what you meant by that," 

Clint stared at his hand, which had held the ball momentarily, "I mean, the plans were on a piece of paper, written in pen, but by the time we'd gotten into the room the kid was in, he's stuffed it in his mouth. It became incapable of being read. He ate most of it. Messy stuff," 

He laughed, drinking the rest, "good job kid," Tony said, to himself, avoiding Clint's hand swat. 

He calmed down, "so what about the older kid," he said, nodding towards Pietro, who they were calling Piet for now as not to get him messed up with the other Pietro. He was smiling softly to himself as Natasha tried in vain to interrogate him. 

Clint's nose scrunched up at his mention, "he's... really weird. Doesn't talk much, except to make sex jokes and dark-humored puns," he grunted," he's mature for his age, definitely knows what he's doing, but you know, obviously immature enough to make dark-humored, sex comments. From the blood tests we ran, he's mutant and definitely related to the younger kid. He's trained," 

Natasha got real close in his face, but Piet just smirked.

"Or, we think. He'd definitely trained though, I mean-" Clint motioned towards him, "how can he not be,"

Tony titled his head, "oh" he leaned back," he knows what he's doing." 

The kid shrugged in response to Natasha's question.

When she was done, it came as a surprise that she got very little information out of him, but she was certain, he was a prodigy.

His brilliance did outfield Tony's and Bruce's. He was cunning, with a good memory. It was only after half an hour of interrogating that she realized he'd been reciting the first three chapters of Frankenstein. 

He was trained in psychology, and his entire demeanor could change in a millisecond at his own will. 

It's when they interrogated the smaller one that they got the information they needed. 

Harley Keener. He shared the same mother as Piet, but their fathers couldn't have been more apart from each other. Or at least that's what Piet told Harley because Harley had never met his dad, but apparently, Piet had been acquainted with him. 

He also revealed his brother's name. Or Hydra's nickname for him. 

Spider-Man. 

Fury was frustrated with the entire situation, but even when they got that name, and searched it up in Hydra's database, they found, Pietro Rom-Enova was a specialist, but what he was a specialist in was: Classified. But besides that detail, there was nothing else about Pietro Rom-Enova there. 

Harley Keener was described as a failed experiment in the database. When they checked his blood, it turned out, it was the same. No change or sign of mutant genes. He had hemophilia too. He'd been born prematurely. 

When asked what he was a specialist in, Piet replied reading. 

When asked what he read, Piet replied people. 

"People?" 

"There are most likely more people in a room than there are books. So people are easier to adapt to." 

They tried to understand that. They tried to get more answers but he stopped talking after that. 

It was when Steve walked into the interrogation room, to try his own method that Piet actually spoke more. Off-topic. 

"What?" 

Piet had been staring at Steve intensely. 

"Are you trying to test out your position as a specialist at reading?" 

Peter smiled at him. It wasn't a joke like a smile, wasn't fake or forced out by humor. 

"No need," he replied, staring at Steve," he's told me everything he could about you. From your ma to your pa, to your skill in drawing. I know possibly everything he knows." 

Natasha knocked on the window, but Steve's attention was locked on Peter's eyes. 

"He?" Steve said," he, who?" 

Peter didn't reply with an answer, just kept on talking, "he told me about how you used to be so small, so frail, so pale and short. You got sick all the time and more than once he told you the L-word when he believed you were on your death bed." 

"Who!?" 

"I read him so well. He was so easy. So easy to read. His love for you screamed louder than all his demons, and his demons were already easy to speak to. He trusted me when he told me about you because he knew I loved hearing stories. I wouldn't risk revealing him. I had an advantage." 

Steve lunged, gripping Peter's forearms, as he looked desperately in his face, "who? Pietro, who are you talking about?" 

Steve knew. 

Tony was also concerned, as Natasha opened the door, and grabbed Steve's arm pulling him away. 

She glared at Piet who wasn't even looking at her, but instead at Steve's feet as he reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled away. 

"What are you doing?" 

He pulled a face so filled with innocence it was almost believable. 

"I don't like him," he replied. 

Steve had left. So he couldn't hear that. Natasha continued to glare at while, while Tony kind of shifted uncomfortably. 

"So you decide to torture him like that?" 

"He tortured James," Piet replied coldly. "James was so lost but instead of looking for himself he looked for Steven Grant Rogers. More than a handful of times, he woke up screaming his name. Hydra wiped his memory twice because Steve was the only thing he could think of." 

Natasha left. 

"He's protective of James Barnes," she said. 

"Why?" Clint said, turning away from the window to follow Natasha. 

Tony shot Piet one last glance before he followed them.  

"We'll find out one way. We'll send Steve in later," Natasha said.

"Or," they both paused when they heard Tony," we could ask Harley," 

They looked at each other and nodded. 

"That'd be easier," Clint replied thoughtfully. 

It would be. 

It was. 


End file.
